The Preacher

by michaelcahill

In this world of plastic people
lives a preacher beneath a steeple.
People pay him very well
to save their souls from holy hell.

On Sunday morning,
the people who come to hear,
sleep through the sermon
he gave last year.

A hail of brimstone from his tongue,
he's very rich, and very young.
He'll teach you how to die and live,
and how to thank him when you give.

On Sunday morning,
the sinners come running in,
and, like magic,
he makes them walk again.

Deep inside the record's groove,
he hears the voice of Satan move.
So, send them all your rock n roll--
they'll cash it in, and save your soul.

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Okay, be kind. This is from when I was fourteen, the second poem I actually wrote down. The music is me and my precious ex-wife, me harmony and guitar, her lead vocals, drums and other things. This is OLD. LOL

I apologize if you're a fan or follower of John Hagee. I, on the other hand, am not. I am strongly against a man or woman of the cloth advising their congregation how to vote and taking strong opinions on political matters. I don't think the church belongs in that arena. His opinion that Obama is from Satan and Trump is from God is dangerous at best.

I was a bit radical when I was a teenager. Of course I've calmed down now. HAAAAHAHAHA!!!!

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Song lyrics

A chapter in the book Songs

The Preacher

by michaelcahill

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